Shattered
by Minaethiel
Summary: In the third installment of Agent Colorado's journey, the aftermath of the project's fall has been hers to deal with for two years. When one of her own goes rogue, 'Rado goes on a mission to track them down, but it quickly changes into a journey that destroys any semblance of normalcy she thought she had left.
1. Chapter 1: Our Own Worst Enemy

**I'd like to welcome all you readers, new and old, to the next part of 'Rado's saga! It's been a little while, huh? I apologize the wait has been so long. I've had a lot of changes happen since QB ended, including getting a job, so finding time to write has been an adventure. I can't guarantee a steady update schedule, but I'll update when I finish a chapter! Without further ado, I present to you the next installment:** **Shattered** **.**

 _Chapter One: Our Own Worst Enemy_

* * *

From recovered pages of Agent Colorado's diary: _Another day, another dead Freelancer. I'm convinced there are two different kinds of Hell now: the kind we make for ourselves, and the kind we earn. I'm still deciding which one Freelancer is._

* * *

Silence was always said to be a soldier's best weapon. However the people who say as much always look at silence from a tactical standpoint. There's no mention of the psychological aspects. Silence always gave me too much time to think. However for the target I was hunting, silence was absolutely necessary.

Hunting down former Freelancers for their equipment back proved to be a good distraction. The Recovery Program within Freelancer was pretty secret, however. Often I wondered exactly who was involved in it besides myself. I'd been offered a chance to team up with another Freelancer, but had refused. I didn't have the heart anymore to let anyone else in. The _Mother of Invention_ 's crash had completely ravaged my ability to care anymore, to the point where I often hoped one of my marks would take me down.

Yet something still kept me fighting to the best of my ability. And always I blamed Psi for that small piece of defiance.

Thinking about him was still a fresh wound. I'd failed him wholly after all. The only reason the Meta had him was because I hadn't listened. Maybe if I had heeded his unease, I would have been more prepared. Maybe if I had trained harder I could have beat Sigma. Maybe if I had had back up…

My hand clenched my rifle even tighter. Back up. I'd been so sure that the hangar had had support. But no, it had been just me catching a glimpse of an escaping Pelican. And only later did I piece together that that bird had held my former lover and his sister. The realization of North's departure had really been what shattered my heart. I could have gotten over the loss of most everyone else. But to have North so blatantly choose South over me? Not even Maine's weapon cut me as deeply.

Funny. After three years I thought the hurt would scar over at least.

But I had to stay focused. Agent Missouri had been a technical specialist. I had already dodged one early warning system he'd set up, but knowing him, there'd be more. Missouri had been meticulous when he had been WITH the project. Now that he was rogue – and that most of his fellow _escapees_ had been taken care of – I had no doubts he'd taken paranoia to new heights. Hell, his security measures were making ME paranoid. I'd shut down any nonessential systems possible that I thought he could use to see me coming.

Missouri had been the first Freelancer in a long time that I'd been ordered to take down. However the Director believed he had sensitive information, and thus when we'd found him I'd been dispatched as soon as possible. I'd been given a short time to plan, and first order of business, as usual, had been repainting my armor to fit the occasion. Among the frozen approach to Missouri's supposed location, I felt like a ghost. Armor pure white, and visor an icy silver. It was cliché in my opinion, but Missouri had opted to hunker down in an isolated winter cabin. Unfortunately, dodging all of his security measures wasn't possible. I'd managed to evade the sweep of one camera, but had to disable a second to keep my position hidden. No doubt that would set off a red flag.

Unsurprisingly, nothing immediately obvious sprang up to halt my advance. Missouri was a Freelancer. He had had the same training I had. Likely he was waiting inside in ambush. Of course, he couldn't watch all the entrances at once. And I already had a plan as I pulled a smoke grenade off of my belt. Of course, my mind tried to shove forward a shred of hesitation. Turning weapons on people that used to be comrades. My orders for Missouri especially had been harsh: eliminate with extreme prejudice. Allow additional project personnel to sweep the scene when it was secured and Missouri neutralized.

The only reflection I managed on that hesitation was to remind myself that I was not the woman who would hesitate anymore.

The grenade crashed through the window, but there was no gunfire in response. Missouri was smart: he'd wait to see me before he fired off a shot. I was banking on his attention being on the window, and I wasn't disappointed when I kicked open the front door. Immediately I honed in on him through my visor. His outline flared up, and I brought my finger back on the trigger of my assault rifle, shredding the smoke and slamming into his body. He didn't even get the chance to fire back as he fell to the floor.

Walking forward with the calm of a predator, I checked to make sure he was actually gone before standing and bringing my comms back on.

"This is Recovery Four. Target eliminated."

Not for the first time, I wondered how I'd gotten to the point of feeling nothing as I stared down at the body of another former Freelancer.

* * *

Back at Freelancer's headquarters, I shed each piece of my armor heavily before making my way to my room. Sighing, I then grabbed my journal out of its place. Perhaps it was an archaic way to keep track of everything, but I didn't want to take the chance of anybody, say, hacking into my datapad and reading everything I wrote. Flipping through the many entries I'd made over the past few years, I almost felt age creep up on me. I was only thirty-three, but I felt ancient. It was times like that where I missed the easy companionship I'd had with most of the team. Carolina's blunt but honest support. York's endless optimism. Wyoming's infuriating, but sometimes entertaining, jokes. Wash's naivety. The way North and South would play off of each other…

Opening to a new page, I gritted my teeth as I wrote. I'd rapidly discovered that keeping things bottled up was only eating away whatever future hope I had left. At least putting it down on paper gave me an outlet. Each of my past entries had been after returning from a recovery mission. Twenty Freelancers had gone rogue, including North, South, Maine, York, and Tex. Of the remaining fifteen, twelve had been hunted down and apprehended or killed. Of the four agents assigned to me – Missouri, Idaho, DC, and Vermont – three had been given the option to come quietly. None of the three had accepted. DC and Vermont's deaths had hit me hardest, cementing, in my mind, that I had hit rock bottom. I could still remember when Vermont had sung a beautiful rendition of the Star Spangled Banner on the Fourth of July. Or when she had performed afterwards, the week during Christmas. Vermont had been the first, and I'd cried after killing her. But I hadn't been able to shed a tear for DC, though he had been nothing but kind to me during our time in the project. Still, my stomach had sunk when he'd raised up the rifle he had had at the time. That had been the extent of sorrow I'd given. By the time Idaho had been found, I couldn't find it in me to care for anything anymore. I'd taken too much away from people and had too much taken from me. _At this point, it's just best to get through each day until there isn't another day._

Despite my desire to also hunt down Maine and Sigma, the Director had adamantly refused if I was planning on going solo. After all, Maine had four AIs at his disposal: Sigma, Psi, Eta, and Iota. However it was obvious to me that Sigma was more of a puppet master than anything. Maine had just fallen for… whatever it was that Sigma had said. _But then,_ I amended bitterly, _Maine had allowed himself to go along with Sigma._

Maybe that was worse than what Sigma had done.

Still, there were so few agents to track down now. Only the Meta, Tex, North, South, York, and Delaware at this point. Delaware was a trivial issue compared to the other five. Tex and the Meta were damn near untouchable at the moment. I figured we didn't have a location on York or the twins either, or else I was positive the Director would have sent me after them as opposed to Missouri. Nevertheless, a creeping despair began to beat through my heart. If I somehow managed to survive until the recovery phase was over… what was I supposed to do?

The pen I had stopped on the page, the ink spreading into a larger stain each second I didn't remove it.

There was no answer I could think of. Civilian life seemed like too much to achieve after everything. There was no going back to the UNSC. The last thing I'd ever want was to be selected as a spook. ONI was far too cloak and dagger. Too untrustworthy. _So what, you have standards now, 'Rado? Sure kill your rogue teammates, but heaven forbid you work for ONI._ Feeling a new wave of self-loathing take over, I removed the pen from the page and closed the book, stuffing it back in the drawer. There wasn't going to be anything good to come of finishing a journal entry. Now beating up a punching bag? That sounded infinitely more productive.

The locker room still had remnants of the peak Project Freelancer had been in. Names of people I'd fought beside. Names of those who had been killed. Their lockers had never been removed – monuments to struggles fought and lost. Despite it all, I felt my heart tighten in my chest as I ran my hand over the names. My locker was next to Carolina's originally, and while it had been a source of constant ire at the beginning of the project, it became more of a familiar comfort to gear up next to the invincible team leader.

Invincible.

Funny how a sudden dose of mortality could change the definition of the word. Everybody was only as invincible as the people around them believed him or her to be. And no small amount of luck kept them that way. Of course everyone's luck had to run out eventually. Too bad it had to be in such a spectacularly shitty fashion. I idly wondered what Carolina would do if she was still around. Would she still be obsessed? Would that focus switch from Tex to the Meta? Somehow, I doubted it. She probably hated Tex so much as a teammate that the thought of her going rogue would push her off the deep end.

Wrapping up my hands and tying my hair back into a ponytail, I rapidly slipped into a pair of sweatpants and a sports bra. Jesus. If it weren't for the circumstances I was in – hell, if things were just like old times – I would have joked about the situation being too damned civilian. It had been a while since I had it in me to joke about trivial things. Sometimes I really missed it. Then again, there was nobody around me to joke along with. The headquarters for Freelancer was now groundside, but walking out of that locker room, it still felt sometimes like I was on my way to another sparring match with Carolina. Or maybe North and I were planning to work out together. Maybe Wash would stumble in through the door again thanks to a prank from York. The thought of _that_ particular incident brought a wisp of a smile to my face. It disappeared when I walked into the gym.

There were other personnel members utilizing various pieces of equipment. The 'regular' men and women had mixed opinions about the remaining Freelancers now judging from what little was offered. Some of them thought we were like cornered beasts, and others almost seemed to feel sorry for us. Some of the bolder members of the ranks had tentatively reached out to me to offer words akin to sympathy. I definitely didn't feel deserving of it. I didn't know exactly how much they knew about what we Recovery agents did, but it made me feel worse that people felt enough for me to say something when I was out eliminating former allies.

Conversation didn't entirely halt, but it got a bit quieter. It only picked back up when I picked a bag that was as isolated as possible from everybody else. Today was a day to ignore the Freelancer in the room, apparently. I was fine with that. It made focusing on my strikes and technique that much easier. This was a time to find some form of solace. Even as I beat the bag with my frustrations I could feel sweat forming on my forehead, creating a sheen of exertion. _This is going to call for both a shower, and the biggest meal the mess can offer._ One thing that hadn't changed: an appetite to rival most of the men on the base. The smell too, if I didn't follow through with that shower. With all of my attention on the bag in front of me, I barely heard the door slide open, and didn't pay attention to how the room fell quiet until somebody cleared their throat behind me.

I don't know why I was surprised to see the Director and the Counselor.

"Agent Colorado," my CO began, his southern drawl grave. "We need you to come with us. A most urgent situation has arisen that we need solved as soon as possible."

And just like that, whatever free time I imagined myself having disappeared before my eyes. Swallowing the snarl that wanted to make itself known, I wordlessly nodded and followed. I still didn't trust the Director as far as I could throw him, but we had the same goal in mind: find the Meta and put a stop to him. It was just a shame that I did more hunting of less pressing targets than the actual grand prize. As we paraded to the briefing room on base, I tried not to let a morbid excitement sing through my veins. Maybe I was actually going to get sent to bring own the Meta. And always, there was that small part of me that hoped, and maybe dreaded, the order to find North and South.

The thought of the twins managed to shrink any sense of optimism. There was no way I'd be able to go after them alone. South would no doubt defend herself with every fiber of her being. That didn't scare me. What scared me was North. He was, for once, a wildcard. Would he lift a weapon against me in favor of his sister? Maybe I already knew the answer to that and didn't want to face it.

"If you're thoroughly finished with being distracted…"

I snapped to attention at the Director's chastising as our small party arrived at our destination. The door to the room slid open in a manner far too calm for the situation, and closed in the same manner. Almost immediately, he ordered me to sit down as the room was secured.

"We've received confirmation that Agent Wyoming has gone rogue."

The statement was so flat, so blunt, that I almost didn't believe it. There had to be more build-up, right? It couldn't just be that simple. It couldn't be that Wyoming would just up and go. Not after the crash of the _Invention_. Not after surviving all that we had.

"Permission to speak freely, Sir?" I requested stiffly.

He glanced briefly to the Counselor before looking back at me.

"Permission granted, Agent."

"Why now? What made him pick now to go rogue? We're as on our feet as we can be at the moment, and we have an active Recovery program going with agents specifically chosen for the ability to hunt down their own. His prime time to escape would have been after the crash of the _Invention_. Yet he chose now. Why?"

Still maddeningly calm, the Director frowned.

"We don't know, Colorado, but our priority is clear: Agent Wyoming's AI and equipment need to be recovered. We're putting you on his trail. Our other Recovery agents aren't as qualified to deal with him."

Qualified? I wasn't sure what made me the most qualified to deal with Wyoming. We were never all that close, especially after the crash of the ship. We also had such different skill specialties that we didn't really understand the way one another thought in the heat of the moment. But what I did believe was that if Wyoming was on the run, he'd draw anybody following him into fights on his own terms. Probably in the sights of a sniper if I had to guess. It would be tricky to get him onto an even playing field, let alone into a confrontation where I'd have the advantage if he was unreasonable.

I don't know why I thought there was a chance he'd be reasonable. No one thus far had been reasonable enough to just give up.

"Understood, Sir. Anything else to add?"

"There is one other matter I want to discuss with you. I would like you to investigate the whereabouts of Agents North and South Dakota. Our sources have pinpointed them as entering a forest on the planet of Gaius IV. At this time, we don't have a reason as to why they would be there. Our best guess is they are meeting another agent."

This line of thinking I followed immediately.

"You think Wyoming arranged to meet with them somehow."

The Director nodded.

"The planet is fairly isolated, but it does have several major population centers. It's also one of the biggest hubs for travel if you want to get to the Outer Colonies. With the war its economy has fallen onto hard times, but the population still remains. It is easy to disappear there if you know how."

The galaxy was huge. If Wyoming, North, and South, managed to all escape the planet again, we might never find them. Hell, it was hard enough tracking down agents as it was without some of the best and brightest getting away.

"And if I find any of them?"

The Director didn't hesitate, didn't purse his lips, or show the least bit of regret.

"North and South need to be eliminated. Agent Wyoming will get one last chance."

Even after all these years, I still felt my mouth go dry and my heart fall straight into my stomach.

Even after all these years… it still took everything I had to nod resolutely and give a firm, "Yes, Sir."

* * *

There was no time off for me.

This mission was far too important to sit back and have a day of rest, and I needed time away from Freelancer's HQ to think. I was furious with North. I thought I hated him only a few days ago. But if you truly hated somebody, couldn't you kill them without a thought? Hesitation had been beaten out of me after each Recovery mission, but North was different. So different that I found my reluctance come back in waves.

North… was North.

He was sweet, and strong, and kind, and patient… a complete saint, even with his bitch of a sister. I had already done some pretty unforgiveable things, but if I took North down with me, there would be no coming back from it. However not dealing with him would be directly disobeying the Director, and there went my chance of hunting down the Meta and reclaiming Psi. It all came down to how far I was willing to go for Psi; what costs I was willing to pay.

If I was being honest, I wasn't sure if I could bring myself to pay the costs at all.

The armory was silent despite the storm my emotions were going through. I wasn't going to be nearing any population centers if I could help it. If I was on the run with my AI, I'd have him check radio traffic and other sources for any hint that someone was coming after me. I had no doubt that Theta would be working diligently to keep North safe. Gamma was probably doing the same thing for Wyoming. If I wasn't careful, all three of them could escape. But… what to do if I found them? My hand lingered over the latest sniper rifle model. While I wasn't near as skilled as North or Wyoming, I hadn't forgotten what they had taught me. In fact, I'd even practiced just in case the weapon was my best option. That time might have come.

Grabbing it, I also swiped eight spare mags in case the situation got really bad. As for my backup weapon… my hand closed around a battle rifle, and four extra magazines rapidly followed. A pistol was placed on my thigh with the same amount of extra ammo, and at last, I felt ready to go. My ride – a Pelican – was waiting just outside. We'd be in Gaius IV in mere hours. Hopefully I'd action have a plan of attack by then.

Nevertheless, I quickly made my way onboard and took a seat next to the pilot. In a bitter feel of déjà vu, I recalled that Carolina would have sat in the same place. I almost felt like an intruder. The pilot, Four-Seven-Niner, had been with the project since I had joined. She'd gotten quieter since the crash of the _Invention_. Ferry around enough Freelancers and I guess you started to get close to some of them. She still cracked jokes, but it took a hell of a lot to bring one about. As it was, she gave me a nod of greeting before the bird took off. I didn't mind the lack of conversation. It felt wrong to just have a casual conversation given what I was being ferried off to do.

The ride itself was only about three hours, but it felt like days. I still didn't know what I was going to do when I arrived on Gaius, but it would probably be best to do some recon around where the twins had been spotted. It was almost a shame we couldn't get outside help to get more eyes on people we needed to track down. Between the Meta, the rogue agents, and just general project routine, it felt like our resources were stretched dangerously thin. Of course, on the other hand, being without support also gave me more time to figure out what I was going to do. My thoughts on the flight didn't do much to untangle what I was going to do.

Bidding Four-Seven-Niner a solemn goodbye, I stepped off the bird in a clearing about a klick away from the coordinates the Director had given me. Hopefully North and South wouldn't be too hard to track. Starting off towards my objective point, I swing my battle rifle in my hands just in case an ambush was waiting for me. It was never out of the question to expect one, especially if Wyoming was indeed working with them. With this new feeling of caution, the journey became much slower.

Under any other circumstances I would have thought the forest was pretty. A breeze was blowing the leaves and branches to and fro, creating a harmonious rustling. Light filtered through the trees in little pockets that dappled the ground. The air coming through my filters smelled like spring, and I wondered what manner of flora could create the orchid-like scent. I had to stop for a second to try and refocus myself. It wouldn't do good to get lost in thought, even if the woods were incredibly beautiful. They had a sense of whimsy that just seemed to be intoxicating. Luckily, the remaining light of the evening caught something. My eyes looked down to catch sight of three sets of armored boot prints in a patch of soft earth. _It had to have rained recently,_ I mused, stooping down to get a better look, the forest, for now, forgotten, _or else these tracks would be crustier. And they had to have come through after the rain, or else they wouldn't look so clear. Still, anybody smart enough to avoid being tailed would cover tracks as obvious as these. This has to be a setup. Either that, or North and South have gotten sloppy over the years. Doubtful._

And with Wyoming possibly alongside them, I was even more alert for a fight. The Director usually kept sensitive information close to his chest, but perhaps Wyoming managed to get his hands on something. Then again, if that were the case the Director probably would have ordered me to eliminate him too. I sighed. Too much thinking, not enough working. Getting that distracted was going to get me killed. And there was no greater return to reality than the one that occurred when the forest noises just seemed to stop. No birds, the wind died down for just a moment, and the hairs on the back of my neck instantly stood up. Instinct had me take cover behind the biggest tree that I could find out of a primal spike of fear, and I was glad that I did. The brief silence was shattered as a burst from a battle rifle flew past where I had been a split second before.

Times like this – when combat was inevitable – made me miss having Psi around even more. He was my eyes and ears for things I couldn't normally see or hear. And even though I'd been forced to become sufficient again without him, it didn't stop me from longing for that extra edge. But I did the best I could with what I had: my own experience. My motion tracker was silent, but that didn't necessarily mean anything. North, South, and Wyoming were smart enough to be able to evade detection if they wanted to. _Then again_ , I reflected as I thought it over, _South and Wyoming wouldn't have missed me if they really wanted to kill me. Maybe North is out there._ I wasn't fond of the hope that blossomed in my chest.

Still keeping an eye on my tracker, I daintily grabbed a tree branch above me to start to climb. Maybe I'd be able to see my assailant if I got a bird's eye view. Normally it would have been nothing to scale the tree, but I wanted to make sure my movements were as stealthy as possible. It was a slow trip, but when I made it halfway up the tree, I came to rest on the first branch I could. Though the position was uncomfortable, it did allow me to scan the undergrowth. Nothing popped out to me, and I frowned. All three Freelancers I was tracking should have stuck out like sore thumbs among all the green.

 _Camouflage, probably. None of them had Carolina's enhancement, but they could have used whatever was available to hide themselves._

A bush rustled off to the right and I snapped my aim to it, my finger instantly on the trigger. Like Missouri, I wouldn't shoot until a target presented itself.

A red blip suddenly appeared on my tracker, and I felt surprise well in me at the location right as I felt an explosion rattle the tree. The branch I'd been on almost disintegrated from the force and shrapnel, and I couldn't help but cry out in shock as I fell. The fall down was more jarring than it should have been, thanks to my close proximity to the blast and the subsequent disorientation. Thank god the armor had protected me from the worst of it, but my situation only deteriorated as I hit the ground. My ears were ringing violently, and I had barely flipped over to clumsily push myself back to my feet before somebody pushed me onto my back, hard.

Even still dazed I could recognize the armor, and a choking noise escaped me.

" _Delaware?_ "


	2. Chapter 2: Years Long Gone

_Chapter Two: Years Long Gone_

* * *

From recovered pages of Colorado's diary: _So this new agent – Delaware – showed up today. Not sure what to make of her combat skill yet. As a person, she's probably the nicest Freelancer on record. It's nice having someone like that around when dealing with Carolina and South on a regular basis._

* * *

I was beyond shocked by the appearance of Freelancer's sweetheart. Hearing her name among those who had gone rogue had blown me away, but seeing her in person? In brought about a whole new perspective, especially as I stared groggily at the cold visor hiding her face. The Delaware from before the crash would have popped open her faceplate and laughed at the situation, and I would have laughed with her, because it hurt the pride to be in such a position. But there was no laughing between the two of us.

The gun in my face – MY gun, no less – ensured that there wasn't any laughing.

"'Rado."

It was a simple, cautious greeting.

Of all the Freelancers I hadn't expected to run into, Delaware ranked near the top. Which made her presence even more baffling. Surely somebody would have known she was on the planet? But then, it sounded like the forest was unknown territory. It wasn't far-fetched to imagine her hiding out for years. And as for the hardware she had used, I would have saved all of my gear for if another Freelancer came knocking too. And it wasn't hard to guess that I was still with the project. I was pretty much a walking armory, and I doubted the escaped agents were as well equipped. This, I realized, was probably why she still had me at gun point. She had no idea what my intentions were.

Under normal circumstances, she'd have every right to be concerned. But I had bigger fish to fry than Number Twenty-Two. I couldn't afford to stop and deal with her.

"Delaware-"

"What are you doing here, 'Rado?" She interrupted sharply.

This was where I needed to tread carefully. While I recovered Freelancer technology at any and all costs, nobody else could know that. Besides the fact if I told Delaware that she'd probably blow my brains out.

"Looking for Wyoming," I lied easily, making sure not to twitch even a muscle. If the twins got wind I was hunting them down, it would drive them deeper underground. I figured Wyoming was the safer bet to say, because even if he did hear of my sort-of intentions, he'd be too arrogant to change his routine. The sniper had never been one to run in fear. Instead he'd just figure out a way to outwit whatever was in his way. Delaware's aim wavered slightly, and I could read her hesitation like a book. Finally, though, the gun came up and she offered me a hand.

"I'm hunting Wyoming too," she said in relief. "Wyoming led Rhode and I into a trap. I got away. He didn't. All we wanted was to just live away from all of the bullshit of the project. The competition, the lies, just all of it. It was poison!"

Looking at her, I could believe it. We'd all been exposed to it. And now there wasn't really an antidote. It was just a debilitating curse. Delaware clearly had learned not to trust anybody, let alone another Freelancer. Wyoming had destroyed that for her. And Maine – the Meta – had killed that for me. _Geez. We're like two freaking peas,_ I snarked in my head. _I don't know if she thinks I'm rogue or not, but I definitely can't check in with Command while she's around. Last thing I need is another kill order right now. I'm going to need all of my resources for the twins._

I tried to tell myself that it wasn't because I missed Freelancer company.

I took her hand and let myself be pulled to my feet. She did not, however, give my gun back, not that I could blame her. I was surprised that she even allowed me to grab my sniper from off of the ground, though a quick look at her posture revealed it to be marginally alert. The laughter in her voice, however, was obvious as she caught my scrutiny.

"You were never very good with that thing."

Perhaps the Delaware from before wasn't so far gone after all.

* * *

It was weird stalking the forest with Delaware. I'd opted out of having a partner just in case they cracked and turned on me. Who knew I'd be partnering up with my very own turncoat now? Delaware was on my three o'clock as we moved. She'd kept my gun to use alongside her own SMG, and she had her own cache of ammo to use for it. Not much because, as I'd expected, none of the first group of rogue agents had been able to grab much. What I starkly noticed, however, was how neither of us wanted the other to get too far behind us. Always we kept one another in our peripheral. Yeah, we had a sort of unspoken agreement in pursuit of Wyoming, but I hadn't yet told her about the possibility of the twins being with him. After all, how could I even begin to explain how I knew of their probable whereabouts? The less Delaware knew, the better.

Actually, it seemed like she had similar thinking. She hadn't given me anything about what she had been up to after leaving the project. Aside from Rhode's death, Delaware had kept everything tucked close to her. Nothing on how she'd been. Not a word about how she'd gotten on the planet. She especially didn't give any details about Wyoming's encounter with her and Rhode, not that I needed them. Wyoming had probably been a Recovery agent too. A lot of the remaining Freelancers were, though we didn't see each other near enough to discern who exactly was. Details aside, the lack of openness between us was stifling enough that it almost felt like there were two fronts I needed to keep an eye on. No doubt she felt the same way, hence the situation we worked ourselves into.

Every now and then we'd stop to examine whatever tracks or strange trails we could find, but when the footprints disappeared it became even harder to stay on course. It also didn't help that the both of us would come and investigate whatever looked like a clue. And even though I knew it was stupid to not have anybody watch the area, I figured Delaware would rather have me investigate with her than without her. Funnily enough, she seemed to have the same idea. Once the trail dried up, however, it became clear that we needed a new strategy.

"Del, much as I want to find him, we're going to need to find something that actually works."

I heard more than saw Del stop in her tracks. Among the green fronds of bushes, she was almost invisible. Her armor was dark green, the trim a dirt brown. When it came to stealth operations in forest or grassland, Delaware was always the top pick. It also helped that she was fairly agile, though her height often made sneaking into tight spaces a challenge; Delaware had to have been at least five foot eight, and dwarfed me by half a foot. Guess I at least had the advantage of being able to have wider options for getting away if the situation ever called for it. But that was morbid thinking, and entirely inappropriate in the face of the other Freelancer's quiet thinking.

"Well, he probably would have had to stop for supplies," she reasoned, half to her herself and half to me. "The city of Frozst is maybe ten klicks from here, give or take. But if we want to get in without drawing attention…"

Oh.

Oh no.

I knew where that was going.

"You want us to ditch our gear. You've gone mad over the years, haven't you?"

Delaware stomped through the foliage, and I could imagine the violent squelch of the thicker pieces of vegetation.

"You do whatever you need to in order to remain under the radar, 'Rado. But judging from your abundance of gear to ditch, I'd say you've forgotten what 'covert' actually is."

Feeling my temper rise in tandem with hers, I threw my pistol in its holster and slammed my hands on my hips with an angry scowl.

"There's a difference between 'covert,' as you so eloquently put it, and straight up stupidity. Namely what you're suggesting. Wyoming will know either way if it's us when we enter the city."

But damn, I had forgotten that Delaware had had a dramatic change of attitude. I didn't need to see her face to feel the hard set of her jaw.

"Well then going in without raising alarms will just keep us a bit more inconspicuous for a little longer then, won't it?"

I sighed and reflexively reached up to pinch where the bridge of my nose would be. Damned helmets. Damned Delaware. She couldn't have just gone along with me. She just had to come in and screw up all of my plans. But had she really? There was no more trail to find. It could have gone anywhere: further into the forest, some other city… but Frozst was closest, and would be a common sense stop for anybody wanting to gather more supplies for an extended excursion, or to find transport off of the planet. If I was running, that was where I would go.

Unfortunately, Delaware had a point. Walking into the city like a glorified death squad would set off word faster than a wildfire catching a dry forest. Not that I was comfortable at all with leaving valuable equipment lying around, let alone my armor. Walking around without it always left me feeling fearfully vulnerable.

"Fine," I finally agreed, the word tasting like hot coals. "But you better have a good place to stash our gear. No way am I walking into a gunfight with nothing but a pistol, and I _am_ keeping the pistol," I slapped on harshly as she opened her mouth to, presumably, argue. Of course my presumptuousness only earned me a huff.

"I'm not dumb enough to go without a weapon either. The stash is about two klicks outside of the city. If we hurry we can hit it before nightfall."

Something small had shifted between us I thought. At least, it might have, because Delaware immediately took the lead and began running in the direction towards the city. All the while I was trying to come up with a plan to ditch her once we made it to the city. Wyoming was the priority to the Director. But the twins were _my_ priority. Before I lost the nerve to hunt them, I needed to find them. And even though seeing them again was terrifying on a deeply personal level, it was something I needed to do. I had to escape this phantom influence North had on me. This influence that made my job harder. After all, had I reported Delaware's presence right away like I was supposed to, we likely wouldn't be charging through the forest together. Instead I had hesitated and made excuses as to why _not_ to report her. Hopefully I would be able to go back to just doing what I had to do. That's what it would take to get Psi back. He had to be my ultimate goal.

And unfortunately – there seemed to be a lot of misfortune for me – Delaware was temporarily going to be my partner to work towards that goal. At least until I ditched her in the city.

Until then, our trip passed in silence. When we got too tired to straight run, we jogged, and when hunger finally drove us to seek a rapid break, we shared an MRE. For the first time, Delaware had removed her helmet in my presence, and I had ditched mine. Two different sets of eyes stared at one another in quiet appraisal. Physically, Del hadn't changed a bit. We'd always given her shit for being a redhead (it was an unspoken rule that you never teased Carolina about it, but York always seemed to break that rule), but she'd always taken it with good humor, usually sniping back about blondes at least being dumber than redheads, and brown-haired people being perpetually unable to wash the mud out of their hair. However, while my eyes were green and hers blue, they both had that same hunted quality about them. Her hunted by Freelancer and the two long years of memory, and me, the Freelancer, also being hunted by the memories of the past two years.

Though if I was being honest, Delaware's complexion was more haggard than it had been, her cheeks thinner. From the way she practically inhaled her food and kept an eye on what was around her, she was more than prepared to cut and run at a moment's notice. I, in comparison, didn't act like a pursued convict. For every bite I finished to her three or four, I felt kind of bad. Especially as she finished, put her helmet back on, and began to pace, keeping an alert eye on the surroundings. I didn't want to indulge her seeming paranoia, but I felt like maybe I could calm her down and get her focused on the task at hand.

"What do you think is going to jump us out here?"

She stopped pacing for a second and gave me a look, though I couldn't for the life of me decipher it without seeing her face.

"Other Freelancer agents. If you found me, others could too."

That wasn't as informative of an answer as I was hoping for. I still had no clue if she knew I was a Recovery agent or not. I needed to give Command an update, but didn't feel secure doing it around Del. More likely than not she'd probably try to gun me down if I got on the radio with them. Or a worst case scenario, she'd think Wyoming and I were working together. Not very probable, but she seemed skittish enough to deem any possibility a likely outcome.

"Yet you're letting me hang around and track Wyoming with you," I pointed out, not about to tell her that her paranoia was unwarranted. I was the only Recovery agent out here after all. If anymore were showing up, I was sure the Director would keep me up-to-date with the situation.

"Yes, because I already know I can't take Wyoming by myself. Not even Rhode and I could do it together. But you were up on the board with him. We should have a better chance together."

I didn't know what a 'better chance' meant to her. Victory was still up in the air. Delaware had joked about my inability to use a sniper, but she had no idea how wrong she was. I'd been working my ass off with all models of the SRS for years now. It was just another gun in my vast arsenal. However I still wasn't as good as Wyoming was. No, if we really wanted to have that 'better chance' as Del had called it, we needed an advantage besides numbers that would assure us a win.

I just didn't plan on being around to get us that win.

The only thing I wanted to do was hunt down the twins and get on with my plan to get Psi back from the Meta.

"Yeah, that's true. I'm sure we'll be able to do what you and Rhode couldn't do. Wyoming always tended to think himself superior. That arrogance will get him killed."

Lies and truths danced around each other. But perhaps the lies to comfort someone weren't as bad as the ones meant to hurt. That's what I told myself as a minute amount of tension left her body and she barked at me to hurry up and eat.

* * *

We made it to her stash as the last rays of light fell from the sky. Crickets were chirping obliviously in the undergrowth, their tune a soft melody to harmonize with the breeze blowing through the trees. If I wasn't mistaking the scent, it seemed like there would be rain later on in the night. Delaware didn't seem to care about how calm it was around us. If anything she was wound tighter than a drum. She didn't stop to admire the flowers just blooming now that the sun had fallen, nor did she give a listen to the sounds nature was making around her. She unwaveringly wove through the trees until we came to a large willow tree. The terrain itself was uneven; from the looks of it a decent-sized stream had run through the area a long time ago. A _very_ long time ago if the abundance of grass was any hint. There was nothing spectacularly out of place about Delaware's destination. Several other willows followed the line of the former stream, their great branches drooping with the weight of their leaves. However, it was the largest tree she came to, and on the stream bed next to a large root was a flat rock. The former Freelancer pulled it aside with ease, revealing a dark hole, clearly altered to make sure she could actually fit down into it.

"Wait here until I say you can come in," Delaware warned, that unfamiliar hardness back in her voice.

I wasn't about to argue with a woman that had a gun in her hands, so I raised my hands in surrender and stepped back to watch our surroundings, that SRS swinging back into in my grip. Unbidden, the memory of back on the Invention came back to me when Wyoming and North had taught me to use the gun in the first place. Both of them either separately or together had given me lessons, and I especially remembered the one where I'd been taught to shoot targets in close quarters. I'd especially honed that skill over the years. If it ever came down to the Meta and I in a fight, I wouldn't lose because I had piss-poor aim. I'd win because my aim was spot on.

"Ok! Come on down, 'Rado."

I was grateful for the distraction as I turned and entered Del's hiding place. It was brilliant, really. Nobody would be strong enough to lift the rock except for a Freelancer, and nobody would think to look underneath it anyway. Jumping down into the hole, I grunted at the impact with the ground before I stood up and looked around. Surprisingly, Del had a pretty sweet set up. She had storage crates that were labeled for their purpose, from weapons to ammo to armor. Hell, she even had a trunk for plain old _clothes_. Del was in the process of placing her armor into the labeled crate, having already changed into a plain set of cargo pants and an admittedly adorable hoodie. Which brought about an entirely new challenge.

"Hey Del, I don't exactly have a change of clothes. You're probably at least two sizes bigger than me."

"Big whoop," she replied back, tossing me a pair of simple blue skinny jeans, a belt, and a very clearly oversized sweatshirt. "We can get you more form-fitting stuff when we get to town."

I mused on that for a couple minutes. No way would I believe she was acquiring all her goods through legitimate channels. I seriously doubted she had a casual job on the side. Unless she part-timed as an assassin, which, as bad as it was, I actually would believe. But I saw this as an opportunity to get an inkling of what she had been doing these past couple years as well.

"So exactly how are we going to get new clothes? I don't exactly feel comfortable accessing my bank account on this planet with Wyoming here. If I was him, I'd be keeping an eye out for any potential subjects tailing me, which means keeping an eye on bank accounts and such, and since he has Gamma with him, that would be a piece of cake."

Del looked me over, and I could see suspicion dancing in those eyes.

"How do you know he still has Gamma?"

I put on my best 'are you kidding me?' look, trying to ignore the sudden, frantic pounding in my heart.

"I was there when the ship was attacked by Tex and York, remember? Maine didn't go after Wyoming."

"And how do you know that?" She half-demanded.

The pounding in my heart became a furious song. I could feel the blade of the Knifle again, hear my screams mixing with Psi's, feel that damning _emptiness_ as he was ripped away… I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.

"Because Maine went after me instead."

I left it at that, watching her eyes go from suspicious to guarded curiosity almost immediately. I knew the question that she'd ask next, and I just nodded. Those blue eyes immediately went somber as a scowl rippled across her face. Every Freelancer onboard the _Invention_ knew who had gotten AIs. The partnerships were attractions of curiosity and speculation. But the ship had gone down before more AI could be handed out, nevermind the fact that Wash was still out of action after his interactions with the Epsilon AI. I almost forgot that I was going to lose Psi at some point anyway, but at least he wouldn't have been ripped away in the way he had been when the Meta came knocking with Sigma.

"Wyoming found us six months ago."

Del broke my silent brooding with her own olive branch of information. She didn't bother hiding her despair.

"We didn't even get a chance to fight back. One minute we were coming back here from town because Rhode spotted a tail on us. The next we were running for our lives. We didn't have our armor. We didn't have any weapons. Wyoming cut Rhode down before we made it here. I managed to hide before he came to find me. But I never forgot. And I will never forgive him."

There was raw hatred in her voice as she spoke about Wyoming. My mouth went dry with uncharacteristic nervousness at the sound of it. I didn't know if it was because the source of that feeling was Del, or if it was because I'd never spoken those words aloud about anybody. Not even Sigma and Maine, though I knew with every fiber of my being that Sigma was going to be dead and gone when I found him. But though I felt that way towards the rogue AI, I could not bring myself to feel the same level of hate for North or Maine, despite both of them betraying me in their own ways. I felt my resolve harden. I wouldn't leave Del in town. We'd find a way to take down Wyoming together, and in the process, I'd find the twins. Once I did that… well, what I was planning to do was still up in the air. At least as far as North was concerned. South, on the other hand, could rot for all I cared.

However, when we found Wyoming, I knew Del and I would have a problem. My orders were to give him one chance to come quietly. Her personal quest was to see him dead. How I'd handle that little issue would have to be very carefully considered. Judging from her reaction to my knowing about Gamma, she was unaware exactly who or what I was working for, if anyone. I really wanted to keep it that way considering her vitriol reaction to any Project ties, which meant ditching her in the city would have made an enemy out of her. I really didn't need any more enemies. To be fair, I don't know if I needed anymore friends either. Briefly, I could almost imagine Psi scolding me for thinking that way, as with all of my thoughts I knew he'd combat. My partner. I knew him so well that I could easily predict whole conversations in my head about certain topics or ideas.

Nostalgia and grief shook me to my core, but I refused to let that show in front of Del. She'd ask questions, and that was the last thing I needed, especially because I didn't know what answers I could give her that wouldn't compromise the small amount of trust she'd given me. Instead, I quietly acquiesced to her demand that I get into the casual clothing, keeping my undersuit on underneath it all. It wasn't armor, but the familiar feel of it was a comfort to going into town without any real protection. The most I had was one pistol, and I hoped Wyoming wouldn't show his face when I was underequipped.

Del climbed partway up the ladder she'd made and hummed in thought before she came down.

"Too dark now. We made good time, but there's no way we're going to make it into town right now. It's an hour-long walk, and there's scary shit in these woods at night."

 _Like the Recovery agent you hang out with and the three rogue Freelancers on planet? I highly doubt things could get much scarier unless the Covvies decided to show up and glass the planet._ Not that I was wishing for that to happen or anything. Still, I found myself wondering what was out there that could spook Del, especially as she moved the rock to cover the entrance. Were it not for the small lantern she had, we would've been in complete darkness. The other woman put her weapon up and settled down on a worn cot, tossing a blanket over herself.

"You can have Rhode's bed. We'll leave at sunrise."

That was just what I was thinking. Pleased that Del hadn't lost a step of initiative, I placed my gun where I could easily grab it if required and flipped a spare blanket on myself after shaking it out. It didn't take long for me to fall asleep - it never had - but staying asleep was always a challenge. Nightmares constantly plagued me. I couldn't remember the last time I'd gotten a full night's sleep. Probably back when I still had North by my side, before Tex had escaped and Maine had gone batshit crazy thanks to Sigma's influence. I'd been toying with the idea of asking for some pills to help me sleep, but it looked like I'd have to go off of minimal sleep again.

Sure enough, I dreamed that night. I was back in that forsaken hangar on the _Mother of Invention_. The hull outside was licked in scarlet as we plummeted towards the surface of the planet, and if I tried hard enough, I knew I'd be able to smell the superheated metal. I was on the ground, still trying to recover from when Maine had thrown me into the floor with terrifying strength. Psi was roaring at me to get up, but I already knew how this was going to end. I had replayed that day in both reality and dreamland for the past two years. Each time it ended in me losing my best friend and my boyfriend. This was no exception. I didn't feel Maine's blade slice into my armor. I felt no pain until he went for Psi's chip, and then I couldn't stop screaming.

I bolted awake, breathing erratic and heart trying to burst from my chest. After two years of the same shit, I never understood why I wasn't used to the fear and pain. It remained the darkest skeleton in my closet, the one thing I couldn't bring myself to talk about to anybody. Even if North hadn't left, I don't even think I'd be able to relive the experience second by second to tell him exactly how I lost Psi. It was my ultimate failure, topping everything else I had done in life. I didn't bother trying to go back to sleep. I knew it was a futile task. Instead I found myself staying awake for however long it took for Del's internal clock to rouse her. The former Freelancer breathed out and stirred, groaning. I thought I heard her mumbling about someday having a normal sleeping schedule, and the thought nearly had a ghost of a smile flicker to my lips.

Instead, I swung myself off the cot and gathered my gun, tucking it into a concealed holster that Del tossed me. It was a casual silence as we prepared, and when she finally moved the rock, weak sunlight pouring in, she finally shot me a wry grin.

"Hope you're ready for Frozst. Just follow my lead. The city takes some getting used to."


End file.
